


Elegance

by Alex Mulligan (Recklessandotherthings)



Category: Hamilton Miranda
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recklessandotherthings/pseuds/Alex%20Mulligan
Summary: Alexander lacked elegance. He was blunt and rude. He cares for no one. Until he began to write, his eloquence, subsequent elegance, saved him from his impoverished town. Took him to the slums of America. And from there: The giant house on mount Vernon, into the arms of the washingtons





	

Sometimes you pour your heart and soul into something, you work real hard to make it. Then you watch it fall away and no matter what you do you can't save it. You stand where whatever it was once stood, the ashes blow around you and you sink to your knees. Your chest tightens and your throat constricts.  
Screams bubble up inside of you, but when you open your mouth it's silent. Until you begin to sob, the tears that burn at the brink of your eyes begin to trickle away. All your hard work, everything you had, broken, the rubble lays at your feet.  
Some people stay in the same place, they curl up amongst the rubble, curse. Dream in the dark. Others dig through the rubble trying to salvage what they one had. If your smart, you move on.  
-  
Alexander, of course, knew this, but as he stares at the damaged city around him he couldn't resist the urge to dig through the rubble, see if he could find anything. Tears burned at his eyes, resting on the brink of falling. Alex began to walk around, kicking his way through the destruction that wreaked havoc on the streets. Amidst the chaos no one noticed the young boy, but he noticed everything. Everyone was gone now, to the emergency shelters, but Alexander remained. He paused in front of his house, the threat of tears ever so real as he stared at it, what little he had was gone, as was his mother buried under the wreckage. He cursed himself for being so passive, swore he wouldn't let it happen again.  
"Alexander?" A hand was laid on his shoulder, he turned around to see his friend,  
"Philip." He was older looking now, harried and jaded before his time, everyone on the island was.  
"They read your poem, you remember?" Alexander nodded, solemnly. What was supposed to be a private testimony to his pain became an ever so public ode.  
"Oui" Alexander didn't want to speak English now, a language everyone around him understood, "oui" he repeated softly, "oui."  
"You have potential, Alexander, of all of us...you have the a shot! Bring funds to our island, spread our cause. Alexander, please," he took a deep breath, "Your mother spoke to you of the wonders of America. Told you beautiful stories lest you never get to see them. It's your chance now." Alexander looked at him curiously, "you're going to mainland. Make me proud son." Alexander stated at him, awe struck. Philip wasn't his father, but he was close to it.  
"I don't want to go?" Philip knelt down beside him, staring him in the eyes,  
"Alexander Hamilton. You are twelve years old. Your potential out reaches all of ours. Alexander Hamilton. You can be strong, go to the Americas. Make your mother proud son." Philip handed him a letter, "We packed you a bag, you have money, but this is from me. Open it when you get there. Don't forget about our cause, Alexander. Promise me Alexander?" Alexander nodded. Philip embraced him in a hug.  
-/--/-  
Alex sat quietly in the car, watching as the scenery blew past.  
"The Washington's are good people, you'll like them" Alex had heard that before. The Kings, the Lawrence's, the Jamesons'. All housings he has been taken out of for their 'violent tendencies'.  
He looked at his social worker, an elderly man named Benjamin,  
"Oh, have I heard that line before" he mumbled. Ben gave him a disapproving look.  
"Alexander!"  
"Alex," he corrected. Ben sighed.  
Alex looked at his lap. He didn't want to be called Alexander anymore, he left that name back on the island. Back with Philip. Alex looked out the window, falling asleep before they arrived.  
Alex was shaken awake by Ben long after dark. A large house, a mansion seemingly, appeared in front of him. Alex looked at Ben,  
"No house is this nice without having something to hide," he mumbled, inaudible to Bens aging ears,  
"What my boy?" Alex bristled at the use of my boy, but let it slide regardless. Focusing on the house, he stood by his earlier statement. No house is this nice without having something to hide, they probably have bodies buried in the garden.  
He grabbed his stuff, he didn't have much, a suitcase and a backpack.  
They walked up to the house in silence, ignoring the bite of the chilly winds.  
Ben knocked on the door, Alex stood awkwardly to the side.  
"Ah," A large man appeared in the doorway. So obviously clearing six foot, muscly enough he could snap Alex in half, "Ben! Martha and I were wonder when you'd arrive!" Alex assumed Martha was this mans wife.  
"I'm George!" The mans booming voice effectively startled Alex out of his thoughts, causing him to jerk backwards from George's extended hand. George looked at Alex funny.  
"Do come in, you'll catch a cold" a high voice appeared from behind George. Revealing, as he stepped away a petite woman whom Alex assumed to be Martha. His suspicions confined as he introduced herself with a curtsy before latching on to George.  
"My, you two truly have the domestic couple act down to a T," Alex snarled. Angry, at what he didn't know, maybe that they had this giant house, this seemingly fantastic life while Alex had to struggle,  
"Alexander Hamilton!" Ben snapped, shocked, "My apologies on his behalf!" George waved it off,  
"He is a teen, how old fifteen?" Ben nodded. "Anyway, We figured it better to have Gil away the first night so he's at Hercules' house, how are your girls?" Ben smiled,  
"Wonderful as ever, but I truly must depart, have a lovely night!" Ben closed the door as he left.  
Leaving Alex alone with the Washingtons.  
"Son-"  
"I'm not your son." Alex bristled.  
"Of course, please feel free to call us George and Martha if you aren't comfortable with mom or dad. We weren't sure if you have had a chance to eat so Martha prepared you a quick meal of your hungry. Alex shook his head,  
"Alright then let's get you to your room!" George lead the way down a labrynth of halls,  
"This is your room. My son, Gil's room is right next to it. He'll be back tomorrow morning. I'll let you have your space."  
And just like that Alex was alone in the biggest bedroom he had ever seen. It even had its own bathroom!  
Alex had a rule about unpacking immediately, he doesn't. So he pulled out only his notebook and pen, he kept a log, he wrote to stay sane.  
He ran his thumb across the yellowing paper of the envelope taped to the inside. The letter from Philip, he pulled it out to read it, a new placement tradition.  
-  
Alexander Hamilton,  
You are not my son, but since the death of Peter, you as close as if you were. I know, chances are high I'll never see you again. But know this: Alexander Hamilton, no son of mine. You are allowed to make mistakes, to take a break, but you have a shot, get your education, don't forget from whence you came, and Alexander Hamilton, my son, the world will know your name. It's likely you'll travel the world, see what you always dreamt of seeing, but Alexander, don't come back. Nevis, St. Croix, all of it the same. A void, you'd be sucked back into to poverty, the squalor, we are an impoverished place. Alexander Hamilton, make your debut. I'll believe in you. I'm here you.  
Congratulations!  
~Philip  
-  
Alex slipped it carefully back into its envelope, Philip is the last person to address him by his name, or call him son. Alex flipped the brittling pages till he got to an empty one.  
-  
Oh Philip,  
Three years in the Americas and I am no better off than I was all those years ago. No mark has been made. I must bare the odds of this monstrosity. But I am in a new place, once more. I write you letters you will never on the slight off chance we may be reconnected by Philip. No place is this nice without something to hide, by the likes of it all, they probably have bodies buried in the garden. They have the domestic act down perfect, if I wasn't wise, hard, lord I would feel safe.  
I try for a legacy, on behalf of the Caribbean I try. But it is suck an ominously vague statement.  
What is a legacy, Philip, it's planting seeds in a garden you don't get to see.  
I remember the time you fought my father, before he left, Philip, you never hurt a soul, you must have been so scared. I don't know why it's come to mind besides that I want you here beside me now.  
Sun of sons,  
Alexander Hamilton.  
Yours, your Alexander Hamilton.  
Your sun of sons: Alexander Hamilton.  
-  
Gingerly he placed his notebook and pen back inside his bag, lying down beside the bed he drifted off.  
-/--/-  
"Is that him?" A gruff voice woke Alex from his slumber. He did not stir,  
"Who else would it be?" A higher voice replied with a laugh.  
"He missed the bed?" A French accent asked?  
"Drunk, perhaps?" The gruff voice again.  
"Hercules!" The Frenchman chided!  
Hercules, that was the boy the supposed 'Gil' was staying with. But where the Frenchman came from? Alex could not fathom.  
"We ought to wake him up." The higher voice started,  
"Or," Alex stood up, "Perhaps you ought not do that." He stared at the three men in front of him.  
"Ooh! Mon petite Alexander! Awake at last! Pleasure to meet you! I'm Marie-Joseph Paul yves roch Gilbert De Motier Marquis de Lafayette! But you can call me Laf!" The Frenchman babbled, "or Gil!" He extended his hand for handshake, excitably. Alex stared at him affronted.  
"Excuse me?" Gil shrugged,  
"The name is a mouthful, oui I understand, you'll acustom yourself to it" his hand was still extended between them.  
"Pardon my ignorance, but Mon petite?!" Alex was furious, Gil was shoved back by a tall black man with a bandana,  
"Eh, Laf is a bit to Handle, I am Hercules mulligan, at'cha service"  
"And I am John Laurens!" The smaller man spoke up, his curly hair fell in waves to his shoulders.  
"Alexander," he stated, "now if you'll pardon me, I have things to do"  
Gil squeaked, pushing in front of the other two men once more,  
"I see maman has already informed you that we are to take you shopping later?"  
Alex stared at him,  
"No." He replied gently.  
George marched down the hall towards them,  
"Gilbert! I instructed you to invite him to breakfast! Not bombard him with names and gibberish!" Alex smiled.  
"Remember how you felt when you first arrived? Well, Alex has had it worse! Be gone the lot of ya!"  
"I thought-" Alex began, intending to ask about Gil.  
"Adopted, now, do you like eggs? Bacon? Pancakes?" Alex nodded yes to all three.  



End file.
